


The Babysitter

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Family, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, Wanda is a badass babysitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7351114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This weekend, Clint cannot, in any way, shape, or form, get by without a babysitter unless he wants Laura’s size eight foot up his ass. Luckily, Wanda doesn’t suck at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Babysitter

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with this before Civil War, but didn't finish until now because I thought of a sequel. It is written more like a train of thought and I broke a lot of grammar rules. Oh well. Let me know what you think.

“We could get a babysitter.”

  
Here was the deal with getting a babysitter. There were only so many people who he trusted to watch his kids and who also knew the location of his house.

  
And by so many people, he really only meant Natasha Romanov.

  
Maybe Steve Rogers, but...how much could you really trust someone to watch your kids when they were constantly distracted by the potential whereabouts of their supposedly dead, but apparently brainwashed, probably Hydra-loyal, best friend? Plus, he had never really been around young kids. Not that Nat had before he had forced his on her, but Nat could handle anything.

  
The point was only Nat could watch his kids. It was that simple.

  
But she couldn't do that if she was also the one taking Laura on a girls' weekend with Jane and Darcy. He wasn’t about to let Laura go on a trip with just Jane and Darcy because, hello, both were superpowerless (even though Darcy could definitely pack a punch with her taser and they had aided Thor in not one, but two alien invasions of sort and, yeah, okay, he was a bit lacking in the powers department himself. But he was at least lethal.) and he was not letting her go off on her own with two practically defenseless friends when his list of people who might potentially want to murder his entire family was only growing longer everyday. It just wasn’t going to happen.

  
Then just to be more of a complete butthead, Nat had to go and chime in with a “why don’t you just ask Wanda?” right in the middle of his reasonable and well thought out explanation of how he would be just fine taking care of the kids on his own even if the roof literally fell down around them last time. That was not as big of a deal as what Laura made it out to be. No one was even in the house when it happened. He'd made sure to move them when the weird noises started.

  
But, sure, Nat, why not?

  
And of course Laura loved the idea because the To Do list was not going to do itself if he was juggling three kids (and if he tried, the likelihood of someone breaking something was a definite) and he had a mission in two weeks, so he needed to work on it any chance he got. And she thought Wanda was just the sweetest. So "yeah, Clint, why don't we just ask Wanda?"

  
“What? No.”

  
Both women raised an eyebrow at him.

  
"I thought you said Wanda was okay?" Laura asked as Nat crossed her arms and cocked a hip. It was her 'are you really going to argue with this right now?' pose. 

  
And, no, okay, he was not going to argue with her taking Laura on a much needed weekend free of diapers and messes and interrupted bathroom breaks.

  
It was just, did he really have to explain the reasons? The multitude...plethora...okay just a few reasons. It was just the like two-ish, but everyone could agree that they were two really good ones.

 

  1. Mind-Fuckery
  2. That...that noise that sounded like words, but was like rubbing sand in his eyes it's so annoying because it just grated at his ears until that nerve in his left eye started twitching in time with the finger itching to reach for the nearest weapon.



 

"No, I do, but-"

  
"What? You don't think she can do it?" Nat challenged.

  
Or they would be good reasons if they would just _let him tell them why_. However, good point.

  
“Can she? Has she ever even been around kids?”

  
“We can find out when I ask her.” Nat offered.

  
Because she was just so generous like that.

  
“I could watch them.”

  
Laura followed Nat’s actions and crossed her arms. Damn. “You are going on another mission without fixing the fence?”

  
Fuck, no. Okay, he was not leaving it unfinished because last time he did it rained and the shoddily patched up fence (it had broken an hour before he was supposed to rendezvous, give him a break) had looked entirely too enticing for their small herd of cattle. So he had come home to a very, seriously peeved wife who had spent a long, wet night tracking down three cows that had felt rather adventurous and she was so not having that again. She would give him a ball piercing with his own arrow if he tried.

  
“That’s not going to take all weekend.”

  
Nat’s expression shifted subtly. “Like the roof wouldn’t take all weekend?”

  
Really, Nat? She had to bring that up? Really? Clearly they did not believe that he was a grown ass man and could handle three kids and a fence and a small herd and the rest of the farm all at once. Which he totally could, thank you, ma’ams.

“But why her?”

  
“You said you trusted her.” Nat had grilled him after the battle. Extensively. Without coffee. Or caffeine pills. Or a shower. He was part of the reason, okay, most of the reason, Wanda had emerged from that little den of rubble in the first place. They had to know if the girl could be trusted to remain level headed in future battles if she really was going to be an Avenger. Which, well, yeah. Ripping the still-ticking heart out of Ultron’s chest seemed like she had gotten over that little fear once given the motivation. Now she was even more driven and jaded by the feeling of ultimate loss and betrayal. She would fit right in with the rest of them.

  
“I do, but-”

  
Laura rolled her eyes at him. Thanks, Nat. She just had to go and rub off on his wife. “I don’t see what the problem is.”

  
Not see the problem? Of course she didn’t see the problem. Because she hadn’t known _him_. And Wanda was sneakier, but she still had that-that attitude and that confidence that peeked through sometimes. That attitude could stay well and far away from his kids for the rest of their lives and he would be perfectly happy. Because what would happen is that she would leave and that Maximoff snark would ring around in his kids heads and dribbled straight out of their mouths for weeks after. Weeks. And then, if they couldn’t fix it, Cooper, his perfect little spitting image of himself, would be zipping through the living room saying...saying the _thing_. But, no actually, he could totally _see that coming_. That was why he was heading it off, right now. Before the eye twitching could start. He was an archer. He needed his eyes.

  
“I thought you liked her.” Laura looked disappointed. She loved Wanda. Wanted to mother her to death.

  
Fuck.

  
“You never met the brother.” She probably never would have named her son after him if she had. Because for all the kid had saved his life, he had also been the most annoying little shit he had ever met. Bar none.

  
“Clint, you decided to name your son after him. Surely, he couldn’t have been that bad.”  
He was. But try telling her that.

  
Nat had told Laura the whole story. How Clint had seen the little boy (Lila’s age, dammit) and how he had jogged back off the transport with Ultron flying in, guns blazing, and just as he had turned to shield the boy...nothing. Another kid lay dead when he should have been. So, yeah, he wasn’t that bad. He just didn’t want any of that in his house. Or to...you know...see his sister’s face. Because he was the reason her heart had felt like it had been ripped out. So, maybe there were three reasons.

  
“Come on. It’s only for a few days. Four tops.”

  
Nat gave him that look. The one where her lips looked ready to open and bestow a gracious amount of dead-panned, ass-kicking, fuck-she-is-right wisdom.

  
He was fighting a losing battle. They didn't have to look so smug about it though.

  
“Fine. Ask a Maximoff to babysit our kids. Who cares if this one can warp minds? Not me. That's for damn sure.”

  
“Cuss Jar, Daddy.”

  
Crap. Freak his darn freaking life.

  
Two days later, with a red leather bag slung over one shoulder and in an outfit that looked like it was just asking for Nate’s spit up, Wanda Maximoff walked through his front door behind Nat. She saw Clint and smiled (smirked, it was totally a smirk).

  
“Hello,” she said in that thick accent that drug out the consonants. “I heard you need a  
babysitter.”

  
Right, she just _heard_ it through the grapevine. Some little venomous, bird-eating spider had whispered it in her ear.

  
“Lucky for you, Mister Avenger, I can be babysitter.” And there was the snark. Clint regretted ever letting her on the property. Actually, it wasn’t even him who led her there. It was Nat. Some Secret Keeper she was.

  
“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t see that coming at all.”

  
Her expression dropped and, fuck, he’d just upset the girl (the superpowered, Hydra-mutated girl who could mess with people's heads) who would have direct, unsupervised access to his kids for at least four days.

  
“Pietro, he was much better with children. They liked him.” Her smile was tight, a fond memory, but one that also _hurt_. Then Clint remembered how often her brother had protected her out of sheer instinct because he had been doing it every second of his life since he pulled them both out of that building when he was Lila’s age. She was the child she was talking about. Her and others who probably hadn’t made it out of Sokovia.

  
“Of course,” he agreed. Because he felt like a giant dick already and what else was he going to say. He still wanted her out of his house. Her and all her fond sibling memories. And Spear generated powers. No need to bring up the past. Please and thank you.

  
Nat rolled back through with Laura’s suitcase gripped on one hand. No chance of him stealing it from his wife and holding it hostage then. Touche, Nat.

  
“Bye. Be good,” his partner said as she passed, giving him a kiss on the cheek and squeezing his shoulder. Hard. It wasn’t a goodbye; it was a warning.

  
“The kids are fed and instructions are on the counter. Clint will be around, so you can always ask him anything.” Laura told her. Lila and Coop were each clinging to a hip while Laura attempted to waddle out the door with her smaller suitcase and purse. She smacked a kiss on the top of each child's head and shooed them away with instructions to “be good or else.” Clint stood grumpily by the door. Maybe blocking it just a little in a last ditch attempt to get her to turn around. She slipped around him and opened the door. “Goodbye, Clint.”

  
He didn't roll his eyes at his wife. He wasn't stupid. But she didn’t have to look like cat who got the cream either. He crossed his arms and grumbled. “Have fun on your girl’s weekend. I'll have fun here, with my tools, and projects, and watching Wanda Maximoff babysit. Because she can do that.”

  
“Be nice.” She grabbed his chin and kissed him on the lips and gave him a quick “love you” before following Nat out the door.

  
He and Wanda looked at each other for a moment before he coughed, because awkward, and started showing her around the house. Which took all of five minutes. Maybe just four. It wasn't really as big as it looked.

  
Nate woke up toward the end of the tour, which Lila and Cooper had joined because their input was _highly needed._ Wanda, face never morphing from the serious (and somewhat creepy) expression that it held at all times, lifted him out of the crib and bounced him expertly and, shit, it looked like she really could do the babysitting thing.

  
“Aw, my brother’s little namesake.” Clint cringed. Why had he ever thought that was a good idea?

  
“Is your brother the one who died?” He didn't immediately cover his son’s mouth out of sheer embarrassment, but it was a close thing.

  
Wanda nodded. “Yes.”

  
Coop started to say something else before Clint rushed in front of him, nearly hip checking his son out of the way.

  
“All right then. I have a fence to fix. So I will leave you too it. I'm just out back by the shed if you need me.” If he whispered to Coop to give the girl hell on his way out, who was to know? Except the Cuss Jar. Because Coop called him on it. Quarter well spent.

  
“Do not worry, Mister Avenger. I have this.” Damn, Maximoff snark. Like that sounded even remotely reassuring to him.

  
The fact that he was constantly looking back at the house did not slow down his fence making process. Like at all. He was a beast. But maybe he spent a few too many minutes critically watching shadows move around through the windows. Just in case.

  
The sun was blazing overhead and Laura had been gone all of four hours when Lila burst out the front door and bounded across the field to him, sandwich loaded plate in one hand and large, lidded cup in the other. “Here, Daddy. Two sandwiches and lemonade. They are both delicious.”

  
“Thanks, sweetheart.” He bit into the sandwich and, oh holy cow, where the heck did this come from? When did they even get horseradish sauce?

  
While he was having a near heavenly experience, Lila stood holding the cup, spilling a bit as she rocked back and forth on her heels. He knew that look. She had a performance to make. If it wasn't so stinking cute every time his little girl decided to grace them with a show of her exceedingly precious and unrefined talent, he would blame Nat for teaching her how to be so quiet and dramatic at the same time. Then again, having met an ex-girlfriend or two of Tony’s, maybe that was a good thing. “Wanda taught me a song. Want to hear it?”

  
“Of course.”

  
He regretted it. Immediately.

  
Not only had she learned a song, it was also a song _in Sokovian_.

  
It had taken him two months to teach her a few lines of French and Wandra freaking Maximoff taught her an entire song. In Sokovian. In four hours. Fuck. This. Shit.

  
He grinned and did not grind his teeth even a little when Lila finished and look a little bow.

“That's great, sweetheart. This lemonade is good too. Did you make it?”

  
Really, he should have seen the answer coming. “No, Wanda did. From real lemons. She made them fly. And she even filtered out the pulp because Coop doesn’t like it.”

  
Of course she did.

  
“Is Coop behaving?”

  
“Mmhmm.” Little traitor. “But Nate cried for an hour and then spit up on Wanda after she fed him.”

  
That was his boy.

  
He sent Lila back in and went to get the wood posts from the barn so that he could replace all of the old ones that he had just pulled up because they were not salvageable. Damn cows. They could have just stayed put and he wouldn't have to worry about a Maximoff babysitting his kids. They were all going to make nice juicy steaks very soon.

  
Once it got dark (and after he had been treated to glorious mid-afternoon snack that Lila had proudly told him she had made all by herself with Wanda’s help and which probably meant the house was most definitely a wreck) he pulled the trailer around where he had easy access to the wire in the morning because the sooner he got done with the fence tomorrow the sooner Wanda the Great could go home and Lila could quit glorifying her even more. She was awesome. He got it. Kid could move on and stop telling him about it.  
He walked into a catastrophe in progress. Seriously.

  
Lila, who hated math and hated science and hated anything that was not art, was at the table with her stack of books and homework.

  
Cooper, who was usually screaming about the instructions to put away his book and clean up for dinner, was neatly setting the table around Lila. No shoving. Or calling his sister stupid. Or grumbling that setting the table wasn’t even on his chore list because it was Clint’s when he was home.

  
And Nate, the one he had truly had hope for not five hours before and was usually wailing for a bottle right about the time dinner was ready to come out, was tucked safely in Wanda’s arm without a peep as she used her powers to stir a pot of tomato sauce with a spoon and sprinkle salt on the noodles, which were rising out of the pot and floating toward the waiting bowl without a drip.

  
It was madness.

  
She glanced over her shoulder when she heard him let the door swing closed. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes when bread comes out of the oven. You should wash and stay in until then.” Then she turned back to the stove, swaying a little to rock Nate.

  
Yeah, that...would be...right. What the hell?

  
“Are you mind controlling my kids?” He blurted because his house had never been this quiet in the history of ever and Lila certainly didn't-

  
“Wanda, does eight divided by four equal two?” His daughter asked from the table.

  
Do that. Had never even made it through math without a crying fit by the end.

  
“Yes, that is correct,” Wanda told her before raising an eyebrow at Clint. “And no, I am not. They are sweet angels.”

  
Sw-sweet what? Fucking hell. The witch had broken his kids.

  
To top it off, the spaghetti was amazing. Maybe better than the sandwich and snack combined. He hated it.

  
“This is better than Mom’s spaghetti,” Coop said earnestly two bites in, a noodle hanging off his chin. Kid was totally gone. At least the baby couldn't talk yet.

  
“Thank you, little one.” Wanda smiled warmly at him and Clint felt that nerve in his eye give a little spasm.

  
“Daddy, is Wanda staying tonight? We could have a sleepover in my room! It could be like sisters!” Lila bounced in her seat, bread in one hand, meatball speared fork in the other. Which of course went flying. Which of course didn't hit the ground and was caught by a tendril of red and floated back to its plate.

  
“She's staying until I get the fence done.” He nodded, scooting the remaining noodles around until he could scoop them up with his fork. No sense in letting such amazing food go to waste. Even if the cook was a menace to his household. “And I ‘spose she could stay with you if she wanted. You would have to ask her.”

  
“Please, Wanda? Please?” His daughter turned on _the eyes_.

  
“I think I would rather stay in my own room.”

  
Wait. Really? Why?

  
Lila, put out, sat back down in her chair and finished her dinner with her bottom lip pooched out.

  
Now she had gone and upset his little girl. This, she was going to have to explain.  
As the dishes were cleared and Clint took up his usual after dinner spot in front of the sink to wash, he heard Wanda send both of his children upstairs to get jammies on. Which neither argued about.

  
Which was wrong.

  
“Not using mind control my ass,” he muttered to himself as he scrubbed dishes. He finished in record time as the suspicious lack of bedtime protest prodded urgently at his mind. They were never this quiet at bedtime. There were protests. There were screaming fits. Hell, sometimes there were full out cage matches when Lila and Coop were cranky enough.  
Compliance was...rare.

  
Putting the last dish in the drying rack, he toweled off his hands and jogged up the stairs.  
Both children were tucked into Lila’s bed, faces washed and pajamas on, not fighting. Wanda was sitting in the chair by the bed with Nate cuddled to her chest as she rocked back and forth.

  
“And the battle to save their kingdom was raging around them. The brother and sister became separated and the girl was scared without her brother beside her. She was so scared that she ran and hid. She would have stayed there, but a brave warrior, the archer, made her brave. Made her want to fight for her people to live. Made her a warrior too.”

  
And she was telling their story. She was good, he would give her that. Weaseling her way in through ennobled versions of what had happened on that floating rock was not going to sway him to like her. Not even a little bit. Did make him sound pretty cool though. Especially considering that speech held nothing on one of Cap’s pre-battle speeches.

  
He probably practiced those though. Clint was at a disadvantage; his speech had been completely impromptu. And in the heat of the battle in an unstable building. Not in a cushy room before everybody was tired and sore and in the middle of not dying.

  
Shaking his head, he went back downstairs, only a little miffed that his usual bedtime story was not needed. Hell, Cooper hadn’t listened to his stories since he had learned to read chapter books.

  
He needed to call Laura anyway.

  
“Hey, you,” Laura answered. He could hear her smile. She was totally laughing at him.

  
“Hey, yourself,” he answered, leaning against the railing.

  
“How's she doing?” She asked. Because of course with the stink he had raised, that would be the first thing she would want to know.

  
“Apparently, she's amazing and our kids do everything she says.” He relayed the events he had witnessed because there was no doubt Laura would see what was happening and finally agree that a mind-controlling babysitter was a horrible, awful thing. Even if she was apparently a rock star at it.

  
Instead of agreement, he got, “Don't sound so happy about it.”

  
She was being deliberately obtuse. Nat probably coached her to say that. Some best friend she was. “Just come home soon, please.”

  
It wasn't begging. He was not reduced to that yet.

  
“She's only there three more days, Clint. You'll be fine.”

  
Sighing and dropping his head against a column. “Laura.” He didn’t whine exactly.

  
“Clint. You are going to be okay,” his wife’s voice softened and he knew she had figured it out. Knew that the reason he had protested so much wasn’t really that Wanda could totally mind blast his family. He knew she wouldn’t. Okay, hoped. Hoped she wouldn’t.

  
He squeezed his eyes and pressed his fist to his face. “Laura, everytime I look at her all I see is him.”

  
Him. And the holes. And the blood. And damn he couldn’t do three more days.

  
“Hey, _hey_. Don’t go there, Clint.” She talked him down because she was awesome and he was the luckiest man on Earth. He finally said his goodbyes and hung up, still feeling off and wishing he could just be Daddy-Do-It-All and not have to deal with these _feelings_.

  
A cool breeze picked up and he could smell the rain coming in. Great. A thunderstorm was really what he needed right then. Not only were his cows mighty wondersome during them, but he wasn't too keen on putting up metal barbed wire while it was lightening if it didn't blow over before the next day.

  
Behind him, he heard Wanda open the door and come out onto the porch. “The children are no longer awake.”

  
“You know, there are ways you could have said that and not made it sound like you might have smothered them,” he told her, going for a jovial tone (no need to threaten her seeing as she was still going to be in the house for another day at least), but missing the mark and sounding a bit too serious.

  
She gave him a cursory glance at the remark, then looked out over the farmland and took a deep breath. “I smell the rain. We will have thunderstorms before morning.”

  
“Probably.” He nodded, pushing back from the railing and sitting in the chair behind her.

“Kids couldn't talk you into that sleepover?”

  
She shook her head and turned to face him, leaning back against the rail with her shoulders hunched a bit. “Nightmares still too big. I would scare them.”

  
That was something he knew all too well. He supposed all of them, the Avengers, were prone to the terrors that crept up on them in the dark. Pepper had told him about Tony's nightmares. Well, she had told Nat, who told him. At least his didn't involved deadly robotics.

  
“They don't get smaller,” he told her. Because he still woke up from a blue haze on his worst nights and broken in a ditch on his best.

  
“What do you do?” She asked softly.

  
He shrugged. “Learn to fight ‘em. They're _your_ dreams. No reason for them to kick your ass.”

  
She cocked her head to the side and seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding and walking back into the house. No snark or anything. Amazing.

  
“Goodnight, Mister Avenger.”

  
“Nope. There it is.” He murmured to himself. Almost hadn't seen that one coming.

  
It rained during the night and there was still a steady drizzle coming down when Nate woke him and they came out onto the porch the next morning. He took one look at the darker clouds in the distance and debated calling in Thor. Which was going to be hard. How did one even open a Rainbow Bridge?

  
So that was a no go.

  
He could probably work in the drizzle though. It wasn't much more than mist.

  
Just as it crossed his mind, it started raining harder and the door squeaked open behind him.

  
“It is raining.” Thank you, Captain Obvious.

  
“Huh. That's why it's wet?” It was going to take more caffeine before his sarcasm filter kicked in.

  
Wanda rolled her eyes. “If it is raining, you will not be able to fix fence.”

  
“Great, isn't it?” He took a big drink of coffee. He _needed_ it. “Pretty sure Thor is somewhere messing with me.”

  
She grinned and sat in one of the chairs on the porch. “There are other things you could do around here since I will be staying.”

  
There was something just off about the way she said it and if he could just put his finger on it-oh. That was it.

  
“Nat ordered you to do this, didn't she?”

  
Wanda’s expression was all he needed to see to know he had hit it dead on. Bullseye for Hawkeye.

  
“Steve thought I needed break. I train too hard. My emotions are all over. So, take a break, he says. A vacation. Then Natasha comes to me to tell me you need a babysitter. So I come.”

  
Of course. That sneaky little spider set him up. “She set us both up.”

  
“Yes,” she agreed. “What does she want from you?”

  
Honestly, he thought she just wanted him to have no excuse for busting through the top three of Laura's List. Because they both knew that if Laura said Wanda needed to be there four days, Wanda was going to stay four days even if the fence was fixed in two. Now though?

  
“Beats the hell out of me,” he admitted bouncing Nate as he fussed. Now that was going to bother him on top of everything else. “I guess I can start putting shelves in Laura’s craft room.”

  
“You work hard to make her happy.” It was a strange comment. He thought she almost sounded impressed.

  
He shrugged. “Happy wife, happy life. Right?”

  
That was a motto to fucking live by right there.

  
Wanda smirked. She had to know his life wasn't that perfect. But he tried damn hard to make it that way.

  
“I like this.” She gestured her hand toward the farm land and house. “Very normal. Not the life of an Avenger.”

  
“It is if this is what you want.” He shrugged. Sure, his life was buried under a truckload of red tape and secrets and cloaking technology. Wiping this place off the map had taken serious illegal shit and time and every name drop he had along with basically being Fury and Coulson’s assassin bitch anytime they needed anything (read:guard the fucking Tesseract) whenever they asked. But, end result? Worth it. Every time.

  
“My brother,” she trailed off and he resisted the urge to book it the fuck out. _Feelings_ were _not_ happening this early in the morning. _Please_. “He would have hated it.”

  
“And I would have told him to suck it.” It was out before he could stop it and, oh shit, did he really just say that?

  
Instead of anger or tears or angry tears, Wanda chuckled. “He would have deserved it. This is perfect.”

  
“I know.” He felt a little smug about it. Because hell yeah it was perfect. Maybe this Maximoff wasn't so bad. If she could stop talking about his brother, that would be great.  
He still wasn't happy about not being able to work on the fence. He had left the trailer out there any everything. Which probably shouldn't be left out. Responsibility and shit like that.

  
He downed the rest of his coffee in a gulp and put the cup on the railing. “I'm going to move the truck and trailer back into the barn in case the storms get worse later. If one of the kids wakes up, there is cereal above the fridge.”

  
“You are going to drive it through the mud?” She sounded dubious as she took Nate from him.

  
“It hasn't rained that much.” Besides, he was going to _avoid_ the mud.

  
In hindsight, not his brightest idea. A good idea would have been to move it the night before. Unfortunately, he hadn't had that idea the night before.

  
Also, who buys an old farm truck just because it looks cool? New trucks look cool. New trucks have four wheel drive. And he was getting one. Tomorrow.

  
He told the old truck. It didn't care.

  
Huffing, he kicked the door open and got out to assess the situation. Definitely stuck. Hella stuck. Stuck for days.

  
“Dammit.” He was overly aware of Wanda sitting on the porch. No doubt laughing at him.  
“You had no luck with the mud?” Wanda asked as he turned on the water to hose the mud off his boots and figure out his next move.

  
“What are you talking about? I meant to do that.” He scoffed. Because you show no weakness in the face of the enemy. And she could wipe that smirk off her face anytime.  
She sat Nate on the porch with a quiet order to stay. Which Clint rolled his eyes at. He was a baby, not a dog.

  
But the kid fucking listened, didn't he? Seriously?

  
Then she thrust her hand toward the two vehicles and danced her fingers through the air as red tendrils arched around them. The truck and trailer all lifted onto the air.

  
Damn.

  
After she sat them down, she turned and the _thing_ happened.

  
“What? Did you not see that coming?” She asked, one eyebrow arching up.  
That little-

  
“I hate you.” He stomped by, flung his boots off, and went straight up to take a shower and put on dry clothes. He took back everything he thought about her being not being so bad. He was right to begin with. She was sneaky.

  
Thankfully, that didn't set a precedent for the day. He not only managed to get all of the shelves in, but also fixed the sliding closet door that was off-track in Lila’s room and began sanding a dresser that Laura wanted to repaint.

  
Wanda stayed well and far away. Periodically, she would send in a kid with a snack or lunch and he would eat it even though he hated himself a little for liking it so much.

  
He had a sneaking suspicion that Nat had told Wanda to babysit him too. They were going to have words when she got back.

  
“Dad?”

  
He turned to find Coop in the doorway, playing with the hem of his shirt.

  
Uh-oh. Something had gone down.

  
“What's up, bud?” He asked, brushing off his hands and squatted down to face level. The kid immediately went into spider monkey mode and clung to him. “You okay?”

  
Head shake.

  
“Did Lila do something?”

  
Another head shake.

  
“Did Wanda do something?”

  
No again.

  
“Nate?”

  
The kid let out a little shuddering breath and sniffled. “Can I call Mom?”

  
Coop was definitely almost one hundred percent a daddy’s boy. Except on those rare occasions when Laura was gone. He should have seen this one coming.

  
Shit. Now he was even _thinking_ that-that noise.

  
He went in search of his phone with Coop in tow and found Wanda and Lila coloring at the kitchen table while Nate napped in Wanda’s free arm.

  
“What's wrong with Cooper?” Lila scream-whispered because inside voices were important and whispering was still whispering even if it was louder than your normal speaking voice.

  
“He's okay, sweetheart, just misses Mommy a little.”

  
“A lot.” An indignant muffle came from his side.

  
“A lot,” he corrected. “Have you seen my phone?”

  
“By the sink.” Wanda pointed over to it with a red color pencil. He caught a glimpse of her drawing and marked it down as another thing that she was apparently fabulous at. This wasn't even fair.

  
“I miss Mommy too.” And all that ran through Clint’s mind was ‘Please, please don't have a meltdown, Lila. Not now.’ He wasn't sure he could handle it.

  
“You can make her a card.” Wanda placed more pencils and a piece of blank paper at her. “It will say ‘I miss you when you are in Paris.’ And you can draw the Eiffel Tower.”

  
“Good idea!” Lila dove right in and started folding the paper. “How do you spell Paris?”  
Clint silently said ‘thank you’ over Lila’s shoulder as he grabbed his phone and took Coop upstairs to his room.

  
Laura (thankfully) answered the first call.

  
Half an hour later Coop was significantly less Mommy-sick and he had made himself comfortable on top of Clint with the phone pressed to his ear. Meaning Clint was stuck until his son decided to get up or go to sleep. Not that he was complaining. As much as he was gone, he lived for this.

  
“I don’t like when Mom goes away. I miss her.” His son sighed when he hung up the phone.

  
“I know, bud, I miss her too.” Because she wouldn't have had to resort to calling Clint. Mostly because she couldn't and that right there was why she won all of the Wife Awards.

  
“Even when you are with Aunt Nat in Germany?”

  
“Yep”

  
“And with Mr. Steve in Georgia?”

  
“Yep.”

  
“Or-or in Jamaica?”

  
“You know what? I'm not sure I've ever been to Jamaica.”

  
Put that down for the record books. SHIELD had not sent Clint somewhere.

  
“Dad?”

  
“Yeah, bud?”

  
“What if you don't come back?”

  
His stomach dropped.

  
“What do you mean?” Sometimes he didn't give his kids enough credit for understanding exactly what was going on.

  
Coop burrowed further down onto his chest. “What if you don't come back like Wanda's brother didn't come back? I-I know how he died. I heard Mom and Aunt Nat talking when they thought I was in bed.”

  
His eyes burned and it was only because he looked directly at the lightbulb and that was it. Not because of regret or guilt or anything like that.

  
He should have guessed it would come up with Wanda being here. _What? Did you not see that coming?_

  
The thing was...well, he wasn't over it. A kid had _died_ for him. It wasn't the first time it had happened (the kid part was new), but he had been jokingly (mostly jokingly) aiming an arrow at the back of his head twenty minutes before that. And then he was dead on the ground. Just staring. Full of holes and-

  
He couldn't do this to himself. He was going to be the one calling Laura crying if he did.

  
“That's why your Aunt Nat is always with me. She'd kick my ass if I tried that.” He was sure that she would. He had one cognitive recalibration to prove it. Not to mention Budapest.

  
Coop, the darling child that he was, didn't even call him on the swear jar and, after a period of silence, he looked down to find his son fast asleep, clinging to his shirt in one hand and phone in the other.

  
Carefully, he slid Coop off of his chest and tucked the blanket on the bed in around him and kissed his forehead.

  
He stood watching his son sleep and, damn, he didn't even know why it bothered him so much.

  
Maybe because it was the first time one of his kids had asked _him_. Laura usually fielded those questions like a boss and he didn't have to question his job.

  
Staying home forever was starting to sound like a good idea. You couldn't not come home if you never left home to begin with.

  
He went back downstairs and found Lila conked out on the couch with a book and Wanda feeding Nate in the kitchen. She gave him a scrutinizing once over as he filled a glass of water in the sink.

  
“What is wrong?” Nate chose that moment to smash puréed carrots onto her sleeve and he couldn't even find it in him to be happy about it.

  
He took a drink and looked out the window. The rain was getting worse.

  
“Nothing.” She of all people probably understood guilt in the face of death, but she probably also didn't want to hear about whose death he was thinking about.

  
One glance told him that Wanda didn't believe him. At all.

  
“I-uhm.” He cleared his throat and tried again because it sounded like he had tried to swallow rocks. “How ‘bout I take Nate and make dinner? You could probably use a break and when the hellions are asleep is probably the best time.”

  
“I told you,” Wanda said as she picked Nate up out of his high chair and wiped his hands off. “Your children are sweet angels.”

  
“That's because they like you and you’ve never had to play mean parent and meaner parent with them.”

  
Wanda shrugged. “They are quite reasonable. My brother-”

  
And there were the memories again. It was like he just couldn't whack-a-mole them down fast enough.

  
“-he was always so stubborn. Had to get creative to convince him to do what I said.”

  
“Wasn't he older? Why were you the one wrangling him?”

  
“Only by twelve minutes. And he needed looking after. Always rushing into danger.”

  
Didn't he know it too. Kid hadn't even thought to shield himself when-no, he had told himself not to go there and he was going there. Bad Clint.

  
His dinner was nothing compared to Wanda's, but it got everybody fed and soon bedtime routines were underway and then thunder was waking Clint up at four in the morning. He stared at the ceiling, counting. He could almost time it by now. The second roll of thunder came, shaking the house. One more and-

  
“ _Dad-dy_!” Lila shrieked. Huh. Usually she didn't wake up til the third one.

  
He ran out of his room and saw Wanda coming out of the guest room, frazzled and powered up with little red tendrils sparking around her hands.

  
“What is going on?” She demanded when Lila screamed again and Coop stumbled out of his room scrubbing his eyes.

  
“Dad make her stoppit,” he whined.

  
What did it look like he was doing, kid?

  
Lila was sitting up in her bed, tears rolling, and letting out little gasps and shrieks at every thunderclap. “Daddy! Daddy, it’s so loud. I'm scared.”

  
“It's okay, Lila-Lou. Just a little thunder.” He scooped her up and pulled her into his lap. Rocking her gently, he wiped the tears away from her cheeks as she whimpered again. “I gotcha. I'm right here.”

  
Clint looked up to see Wanda and Cooper standing in the doorway, one concerned, one angry.

  
And five guesses which one was which. He knew that sibling truce wouldn't last long. Even with mind control.

  
“Come, little one, I will tuck you back in,” Wanda told Cooper.

  
A long roll of thunder shook the house again and Clint heard Nate come awake with a wail back in his room.

  
“I will get the baby,” Wanda told him. He nodded, grateful for once that she was there. Wailing baby and wailing daughter were almost too much when one crying would set the other off again.

  
“Li’s ‘fraid of thunder. It's stupid,” Coop told his babysitter as he followed her down the hall.

“I gathered,” Wanda told him. “You do not help her though. A brother’s job is to take care of his siblings and comfort them when they are afraid.”

  
It was the lack of sleep. That was totally it. Because that statement would not have made his eyes burn otherwise.

  
It wasn't because it brought up memories of his own brother. Asshole that he was. Or thoughts of hers. The one who wasn't there anymore to comfort her when she had nightmares. Because of him. That was not it.

  
He grumbled to himself as he pulled the covers over Lila and himself, keeping her cradled to him. Not that it was difficult considering the girl was doing a fabulous impersonation of an octopus.

  
Just as he got them settled, he heard it. A low, soft sound coming from the other room. He recognized the wording immediately. It was the same song Lila had gleefully sang for him the day before. But, somehow, it was different.

  
It was sad.

  
Kicking the covers back off, he rose with Lila from the bed and followed the sound.  
Wanda was standing by Coop’s bed with Nate in her arms, rocking him. Coop was tucked back in and staring up at her with slow-blinking eyes.

  
Kid looked enamored.

  
Hell, Clint was feeling a bit enamoured himself.

  
On his shoulder, Lila’s sniffles stopped and he felt her turn her head to watch Wanda sing.  
All three kids were out like a light before she was finished.

  
“I think it is safe to return to sleep.” She didn't look up at him as she said it, but down at his youngest son.

  
“What does it mean?” Because there was no way he could let her get away with singing something so terribly heart-wrenching and not find out.

  
She shook her head and left the room with Nate. Okay then. He tucked his daughter back into her bed with a hair ruffle and forehead kiss, hoping this was the last time he had to get up. No sleep, cranky Lila was not fun to deal with in the morning.

  
Wanda was standing in the doorway of the guestroom when he headed back to his own room. He froze with his hand still on Lila’s door, leaving it cracked, just in case.

  
“It meant a promise, but not anymore,” she whispered, fiddling with a ring on her finger.

“My mother sang it to us. Then Pietro sang it to me. It is supposed to mean hope, but no more. It means pain.”

  
That sounded like a bitch and a mess and huh? “Why did you teach it to Lila?”

  
“Because she still has hope.” Then she slipped into the guest room and closed the door.  
Great.

  
Now he really needed to find a translation for that song. And what did that even mean, ‘she still has hope?’ Like, what was that? Who says stuff like that?

  
Wanda freaking Maximoff apparently.

  
“I'm too tired for this,” he grumbled as he fell back into bed.

  
Three little knocks woke him hours later. “Dad?”

  
Coop knocked three more times. It was the “knock so daddy doesn't freak out and pull a gun on you” signal that had replaced the kids tiptoeing into the room and leaving them all a mess. And it was too early. Whatever time it was.

  
The alarm clock on the bedside table blinked steadily. Great. Power had gone out. No alarm. Good morning, Clint Barton.

  
“Dad?” Three more knocks. Okay, kid.

  
“Yeah?” The kraken was released. Cooper bounded into the room and onto the bed before the door finished swinging open.

  
“Wanda made breakfast,” his son informed him as he settled on his chest. “There are bacon and eggs and pancakes and fruit and syrup and Lila said she was going to eat a stack of toast taller than her head.”

  
“Taller than her head, huh?” He asked as he lifted Coop up and threw him over his shoulder before following the smell of breakfast down the hall.

  
“Hey, Dad?” Coop said as he let himself be hauled around.

  
“Yeah?” Holy cow that bacon smelled amazing.

  
“I'm sorry I got mad at Lila for being scared.”

  
He was, like, a split second from dropping his son when his brain fried a little. He sat him down quickly in case it happened again. “What?”

  
“Wanda said that getting angry at people for being scared is mean and that you should make people brave when they are scared, like the archer in her story made the magic girl brave.” Coop scuffed his foot against the carpet. “The archer’s you, right? I want to be like that.”

  
He blinked at his son. “Oh. Yeah. Good idea.”

  
What was going on in his house? Was this even real?

  
“I think Wanda was the girl.”

  
Clint grunted a neither yes or no answer.

  
Coop nodded, face skewed in concentration. “Yeah, and maybe if she is, that means her brother isn’t there anymore to protect her, like he did in her story. And maybe we need to do that, Dad. We should protect her.”

  
“And what’s your plan for that?” Because this he had to hear.

  
His son frowned. “I don’t know. I should probably practice a lot more with my bow, huh?”  
Clint nodded, grinning. “Probably.”

  
“Do I have to tell Lila I'm sorry?” Coop asked, giving Clint the most hopeful look he could muster.

  
“It would probably be a good idea. Let's go get some breakfast, buddy.” He steered his son down the stairs as his mind reeled. Cooper was willing to apologize for something he hadn't even seen as wrong not five hours ago. What was that little witch doing to his kids?

  
And could she teach him how to do it?

  
And Coop was ready to take up arms for her. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have him sneaking on to mission transports. And wouldn’t that be something fun to explain.

  
The sky was mercifully clear when Clint stepped outside with his morning coffee. Wanda had already fed, cleaned, and dressed the kids by the time he was finished with his first round of lighter than air pancakes that melted in his mouth when just the right amount of syrup was on them and-

  
This had to end. No one should be that good at life-ing. Let alone someone who was still a kid and who had lived in a Hydra run facility for several years while she was slowly mutated into something that wasn't quite off his weird shit-o-meter, but pretty close.

  
Not that he could end anything until that damned fence was done. At least the cows were where they should be. Small victories.

  
He came into the house hours later covered in mud and soaked up to his eyebrows, but the damn fence was done. And his balls were not happy about being in wet jeans all day. Chaffing was a bitch.

  
And he may have chafed a bit at the perfect condition the house was in and that dinner was going to be ready in half an hour.

  
Laura was not sympathetic. At all.

  
“Clint, I still don't see why you are so mad. It sounds like things are going great with Wanda there,” Laura told him when he told her about his _fabulous_ day.

  
“I'm not mad because she's here.” He huffed, yanking off his wet clothes to get in the shower. “I'm mad because she's good at it.”

  
Laura laughed and laughed and laughed and, if it wouldn't have landed him in the dog house, he may have actually hung up on her.

  
But he didn't because his balls hurt enough already.

  
He waddled bow legged back down the stairs after a shower and was sorely tempted to track down some of Nate’s diaper cream. How did the kid deal with this?

  
Everyone was already seated at the table with sleeping Nate swaying back and forth in his rocker swing. Coop was in a fully launched tirade about the downfalls of the latest Captain America action figure (“because, Wanda, if you try to make him throw his shield like Mr. Steve really does, his arm falls off”) and Lila was rolling her eyes because they had all heard it a thousand times.

  
“This stogienuff is really good, Wanda,” Lila interrupted loudly. Coop turned red and ground his teeth, but shoveled another bite without snapping at her. Okay, now he was impressed. Wanda was writing him a guide before she left. How to Work Magic on the Barton Kids by Wanda Maximoff. Best seller.

  
Wanda smiled at Lila. “Stroganoff was my brother’s favorite.”

  
“It’s my favorite too,” Coop declared, giving Lila a challenging look. Clint and Lila were both well aware that his favorite food was thin crust pepperoni pizza with exactly four pepperoni per slice and extra cheese.

  
Lila gave her best Natasha eyebrow raise and twirled her fork.

  
“Wanda?” She started with a sly smirk, “Did your brother ever make up stories because he had a crush on a girl?”

  
“ _Lila_!” Cooper yelled.

  
“Inside voice, buddy,” Clint told him, hiding his grin behind a forkful of stroganoff noodles.

  
Cooper squawked indignantly, “But, Dad!”

  
“And Lila, no telling girls when your brother has a crush on them. It’s rude.”

  
Cooper turned red and threw his head back with a frustrated growl. “Daaaddd.”

  
Lila giggled and bounced in her chair. “Sorry, Coop.”

  
“Wanda, don’t listen to them,” Cooper told her. “They’re ridiculous.”

  
“When we were with Hydra, a pretty, young nurse told him he would be more handsome with lighter hair.” Wanda grinned and Clint thought that may have been the first time she had smiled all the way up to her eyes since they had met. Even if that had happened when they were locked up in the freakiest hospital ever with the second biggest group of assholes in the universe. “After that, he always dyed it blonde. Even though I told him there were reasons people make jokes about dumb blondes.”

  
Clint laughed along with his children, but felt an all too familiar churning in his gut. The kid had life. He had crushes like his son and did stupid things just like he had when he was head over heels for Laura. And, dammit, no more story time for his kids. There was no reason they needed to know anything about Pietro Maximoff.

  
He collected dishes and shooed the kids off to the living room. Totally not thinking about how Wanda wouldn’t be making any more of those memories that made her grin all the way to her eyes.

  
“You should hate me.” He hadn't really thought about it before he said it, but now it was out there.

  
Silence reigned and he forced himself to turn back around.

  
Wanda had put down the baby food she was feeding Nate and was looking at him with an unreadable expression.

  
The back of his neck felt all prickly and awkward and he didn't really know how to follow that up.

  
Finally, she gave a minute shake of her head and turned back to feeding Nate. “I do not.”

  
Exactly. He knew that. He knew that because he had left her alone with his kids and they weren't insane or hallucinating. His house was still standing. He was not mind-fucked. She didn't hate him and he couldn't for the life of him figure out _why_.

  
“My brother made his choice. It hurt and he knew it meant I would be alone.” Wanda looked back at him and he couldn't get over how not-hateful her gaze was. “But you did not kill my brother.”

  
No. And really, he shouldn't be the one lamenting over guilt after the speech he gave her. But it just didn't make sense. At all.

  
“When we started this, we did it because it was our choice. For revenge, but also to help. They mutated us and used us, but what we became was our choice. You gave me a choice in the battle. And Pietro also made his. When we were little, so many choices made for us. No parents. No home. We had to go here and here. Do this and this, but never our choice.” She spoke in a level tone, but Clint could still see the emotions playing off her face. She put the spoon in the now empty baby food jar and used Nate's bib to wipe him down. “I think, if Pietro knew about this place. About your family. He would be happy to die again protecting this.” She paused to dab carrot off of Nate’s hands and then quietly said, “ _I_ would die protecting this.”

  
He was pretty sure his heart was going to burst because it just ached.

  
“Thank you,” he said hoarsely. He wasn't sure how many of his teammates would say the same. Except Nat. But here was this kid and she had already lost everything because of him and Ultron and Tony and she was still _willing to give more_. For his kids. For him.

  
“You are welcome, Mister Avenger.” She smirked and scooped up another spoonful of mashed chicken and peas.

  
Clint laughed and went back to drying the dishes. “Clint.”

  
She cooed at Nate, but he could see the grin on her face. She was probably still going to call him that. Because that snark wasn’t going away anytime soon.

  
Waking up with his sniper-spy-badass senses tingling, Clint had his handgun from the side table in his hand before he even figured out what it was that woke him up.

  
That was it. There was a tiny noise coming from the front porch.

  
He sat for a moment listening. No noise from inside the house. No alarms.

  
He checked each of the kids rooms and paused and decided against opening Wanda's door. He was decently sure that anyone who tried to go into her room unasked was going to be in for a hell of a time. Including himself.

  
Instead, he knocked softly and received no answer.

  
So his options were:

 

  1. Wanda
  2. A raccoon
  3. Hydra



  
“Please be a raccoon,” he mumbled to himself as he switched his gun for a short range bow before climbing out onto the roof of the porch to investigate. Silently. Because he was stealthy as fuck.

  
He positioned himself over the sound, then swung down onto the porch, leading with his bow.

  
Wanda sat curled into the chair and red tendrils were coming toward him almost as soon as his feet hit the wood boards.

  
He lowered the arrow and ran a hand over his face. Because _holy shit_. “I could have shot you.”

  
“I can stop an arrow.” She shrugged, burrowing further into the red knit wrap she had cocooned herself in and hiding her face.

  
“Oh, that's cool. You know, I wish I could scare people into shooting at me so I could show off that superpower, too. Oh, wait. I don't have any. Sure would be nice if I did though. Just in case I wanted to do that,” he muttered under his breath. His heart was still pounding a little too hard. How was he supposed to even explain that one to Cap?

  
‘Hey, Cap. Sorry, but I shot the Scarlet Witch. No, no. It wasn't really an accident. Well, I thought she was a raccoon. Maybe Hydra.’

  
He would get himself Star Spangled Banned from the Avengers.

  
He didn't even want to know what the Vision would do. That guy still creeped him out. But far be it from him to distrust the guy whose brain was powered by the thing that turned him into a glorified minion. It sounded like a great idea.

  
But no one asked him.

  
Wanda tried to hide a wiping her eyes on her shawl and failed miserably.

  
Crying. Awesome.

  
“Nightmares?” He really didn’t need to ask. No one got that look she had from anything else. It was practically patented.

  
Wanda gave a jerky nod and pulled her knees closer.

  
“Want to talk about it?” He kind of dreaded the answer. It ranged from ‘my whole family is dead’ to ‘I helped a robot turn my country into a flying saucer’. Neither sounded like a topic he was equipped to address. ‘I went on a calculated rampage under mind control’ was more his forte.

  
Wanda remained silent, looking past him onto the dark farmland.

  
Or no answer. That worked too.

  
He sighed. What was he even supposed to do here?

  
He could see her biting the inside of her cheek and every once in awhile she let out a small shiver. Well, no point in letting her freeze to death. He stepped inside and pulled the blanket off of the couch before draping it around her and tucking it in. She flinched when it went around her, then burrowed into it.

  
“Thank you,” she said quietly. The tears had returned while he had been gone. Damn.  
He sat back on his heels in front of her. “Look, whatever they are, they’re only dreams.”  
She hiccuped and shook her head.

  
“Wanda, they’re just dreams,” he told her again.

  
A sob burst out of her and she brought the back if her hand to her mouth in an attempt to contain them. “Then why are they all dead?”

  
Oh fuck it. He pulled her into a hug because it worked with Lila so why not just try because he couldn’t watch her just break like that without doing _something_.

  
“You’re okay,” he whispered as he swayed with her as she choked on sobs that made him want to cry with her. And maybe he did at some point. “You’ll be okay.”

  
She continued to sob and he realized maybe Cooper was right. They were going to have to pick up the slack and protect her because if they didn’t she was on her own. And fuck if he was going to let that happen.

  
Nate's monitor going off woke him up early the next morning and he took his son downstairs to start breakfast.

  
Wanda trudged down an hour later and he may have puffed his chest out a little at the astonished look on her face.

  
Yeah, he could make a killer breakfast, too. What now, Oh Awesome One?

  
She was half a bite through the eggs when she stopped with a strange expression, fork paused on its way back to the eggs and he had a brief moment of _oh fuck I dropped an eggshell in._

  
Then she swallowed and continued to eat as if nothing was different.

  
“Okay, what was that face?” He was dying.

  
She frowned and he thought maybe she wasn't going to tell me. Then, “You put sausage in the egg like my mother did.”

  
Well, fuck.

  
“Oh-” Then his beautiful children totally saved him from an accidental trip down the same gravel road they’d been on last night. He loved those little guys. Best things he ever made.

  
“Dad! I wanted Wanda to make breakfast again!” Cooper yelled as he came up short when he saw Clint at the griddle and Wanda at the table, still eating the eggs. The lip made an entrance, at that point, and he thought they were on the edge of a Coop-tastrophe when Wanda swooped in.

  
“Your father made my favorite breakfast,” she informed the little guy.

  
And all was well.

  
And then, because Lila was all about everything Wanda, his daughter decided it was her new favorite breakfast and ate two helping. This coming from a girl who was on a strict toast and jelly diet before ten a.m.

  
Clint settled down with his plate and Nate and managed to only minimally jelly the baby with his toast. And, hey, was he really a baby if he wasn’t a little sticky?

  
“Is Mommy coming home tomorrow?” Lila asked as he piled eggs onto his own plate.

  
“Unless your Aunt Nat convinces her to go on a whole tour of Europe, yes.” It was entirely possible. She argued that it was because she really only got one good use out of a dress. He argued that she didn’t have to rip them to pieces everytime they took down a target. Either way, she had expensive taste and Milan had her favorite dressmaker.

  
“Can we make a banner and decorate?” Lila asked excitedly, egg flying and a red tindil catching it. He could get used to that. Way better than a dog.

  
“What would it say?” He asked and, yes, he was going to let her.

  
Lila jumped to stand in her chair and squared off a banner with her hands. “It would say, ‘Welcome Home, Mommy’ in pink with yellow flowers because they are her favorite.”  
“I think that sounds fantastic, sweetheart.”

  
Lila grinned and sat back down. “We asked Mommy if we could make one for you one time, but she didn’t know when you would be home so we didn’t.”

  
Well, that felt like a punch to the gut, now didn’t.

  
Coop must have picked up something in his expression because he thumped his sister on the arm and suggested they go get dressed. They sat their plates in the sink and, when Lila ran up the stairs, Coop slung his arms around Clint’s neck, squishing Nate a little.

  
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Coop whispered and Clint knew he was trying to put a Band-Aid on what Lila had just obliviously said and it almost hurt worse.

  
“Not your fault, buddy,” he told him, squeezing him back and laying a kiss on his hair. Nope, this particular thing was all on him. “Go get dressed.”

  
He watched his son run up the stairs after his sister and couldn’t ignore the feeling of Wanda’s eyes on him as she sat down the table slowly working her way through the plate of bacon he had made.

  
He met her gaze and waited for her to say something. Anything.

  
She finished off her strip of bacon with a smirk and he realized it was the last piece and he hadn’t even gotten any.

  
“You little shit.” He laughed and the tension broke and he thought Wanda might be a saint.  
She grinned and gathered up her dish and glass. “Cuss Jar, Mister Avenger.”

  
_She did not._

  
Clint narrowed his eyes at her and she just smiled back before rising and taking her dishes with her.

  
“I will wash the dishes today,” she told him, humming as she went. Happily, he noted, to the same tune she had sang the other night.

  
“You never told me what that song meant,” he said as he took a bite of egg while dodging Nate’s hand trying to grab the spoon.

  
She didn’t turn around to face him, but said. “It is about family and love and the sun. It is hope for the future. It does not translate well to English.”

  
For some reason, that kind of made Clint feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. “That sounds nice.”

  
She looked over her shoulder and her serious expression dropped for once and she looked content and happy. “It is.”

  
He took another bite and chewed as he shook Nate’s bottle and gave it to him. Maybe that would keep the kid away from his eggs. “Speaking of sun, I was thinkin we could all go fishing today if you wanted. It’s your last day here and I’ve had you working the whole time.”

  
She shrugged and scrubbed at the oil on the bacon dish. “It is why I am here.”

  
“No. I distinctly remember you saying Steve sent you on vacation.” Which he had remembered last night as he was hauling her up the stairs as she made little post-crying hiccuping noises in her sleep and he had felt the surpreme need to fix everything. “Babysitting is not a vacation.”

  
“It is compared to five a.m. training calls.”

  
Clint laughed. “What? Early to bed, early to rise doesn’t make all the little Sokovians healthy, wealthy, and wise?”

  
She gave him a dark look. “Not when it is Natasha waking you.”

  
He grimaced and felt for her, really. He’d been there. Natasha was not the best alarm clock. And by not the best, he meant that he had to hide anything that could hold ice cold water before he went to sleep or it was going to be involved in waking him up.

  
Not cool.

  
“I have never fished. Perhaps I would like to try,” Wanda said with a nonchalant shrug. Like she thought it was no big deal. Clint had a feeling that wasn’t true.

  
“Fishing it is, then.” He nodded, finishing off his eggs just as Nate smacked a hand down where they had been. Kid had definitely inherited his aim.

  
It seemed Clint had finally found something that Wanda couldn’t do.

  
Two hours in, Coop, Clint, and Lila all had good sized catches waiting on the stringer for them to clean and take home for dinner and Wanda had squat.

  
He tried not to laugh when she came to sit in the other camp chair he had brought out with a sour expression and propped the rod up against her knee with the line still in the water.  
“No luck?” he asked. Not grinning. Because gloating was rude.

  
Her frown deepened and she took the sunscreen he had just finished slathering on the kids (because he would be dead if Laura came back and they were crispy), smearing it on her face.

  
“It does not count if you shoot the fish,” she snapped.

  
“Hey! I did not shoot them.” He resented that statement. “They have to be alive on the stringer.”

  
“Then why do you have your bow?” She asked, pointing the weapon propped up on the tree beside him.

  
It was an old recurve, not his mission bow and he would never take her fishing. “Target practice.”

  
He gestured toward a knot in the tree a few hundred yards away. Okay, so he motioned to the tree; she probably couldn’t see the knot or the arrows in it.

  
She squinted her eyes, then gave him a dubious look. “Sure.”

  
“Check the fish. No holes.”

  
She hurmphed and crossed her arms. “I could pull them out.”

  
He watched red smoke crackle like lightning around her finger and, yeah, she could, but he knew she wouldn’t. She was too frustrated with not being able to fish the normal way to take the easy way out.

  
“Come on. You had fun,” he teased.

  
Wanda looked back across the pond where the kids were arguing over their lines getting crossed. “I suppose.”

  
Clint grinned. He knew it. “We’re going to climb mountains in Colorado when I get back from helping Nat and Steve with this mission.”

  
“I am excellent mountain climber,” she grumbled sullenly.

  
Clint paused. He was going to go for it. “You could come with us. Get a taste of what a real vacation should be like.”

  
He almost couldn’t believe he asked. But he _had_ to. She just a kid and she had lost everything and she was still so _awesome_. And he _had_ to.

  
“I do not know if Steve will approve.” There was that.

  
He could fix that. Steve loved him. He was doing favors for Steve. He was putting off retirement for Steve. He was going on a wild goose chase with Steve.

  
“But if he did?”

  
She screamed and he was not expecting that reaction.

  
Startled, he looked over and saw that she had a bite. She jumped up and attempted to reel the fish in like mad.

  
“Slow down.” He laughed. She was going to break the line. “Tire the fish out a little.”

  
He stood, shifting Nate to one hip and guiding her hand to _slowly and calmly_ reel the line. Coop and Lila came running in, huffing from the sprint.

  
“Why were you yelling?” Coop asked breathlessly.

  
“I have a fish.” Wanda focused on slowly guiding in the fish and biting her lip.

  
“A big one?” Lila asked, standing beside her and scruntizing the water.

  
“I do not know.” The little bobber was only about ten feet from the shore now and Clint could just see the fish through the water. And damn. It look like a bass about twice the size of the one he had. That wasn’t even fair.

  
“Here, Coop, hold your brother.” He handed the baby off and directed the rod to pull the fish above the plants that grew at the edge of the water.

  
The fish came out of the water and Wanda let out a yelp as the fish came out of the water with a tug and landed on her foot.

  
He chuckled and pulled the fish out of the grass. “Bass. Here, take the hook out. Watch the fins.”

  
Without thinking, he handed it to her and she immediately dropped it as it flopped around.

  
“It’s running away!” Lila screamed, chasing it as it flopped around and Coop tried to direct as Nate giggled and Wanda tried to help and Clint had to laugh because this was family and it was the funniest thing ever.

  
And it was a damn good fish.

  
“This mountain trip, there will be fishing?” Wanda asked as they ate her fish for dinner that night.

  
Clint nodded. “Of course.”

  
“I suppose I will ask Steve if I can go. So you won’t starve with your small fish,” she said, taking bite with a smirk.

  
He flicked a french fry at her which started a small and very miniscule food fight when Lila and Coop joined that Laura was not going to find out about. As long as the ketchup came out of the curtains.

  
_Which he did_ and she entered the kitchen with Nat the next morning none the wiser.  
She greeted him with a kiss after Coop and Lila had detached themselves to attack Nat.

“How was it?”

  
“Great.” Because it was.

  
“Great?” She gave him a surprised look.

  
“Fine. It was a good idea. The Wanda babysitting thing.” Now she could gloat.

  
She gave him a smarmy little smile and turned to take Nate from Wanda and cover him with kisses.

  
Nat siddled up to him as Lila and Coop pulled Laura and Wanda over to the banner Wanda had helped them make after dinner the night before while he finished sanding the dresser for Laura because surprises weren’t as cool when they weren’t finished.

  
“She looks happy,” she commented and Clint knew she was doing an internal happy dance. She gave him a sly smile and added, “So do you.”

  
Then he figured it out. He _got_ it.

  
She was a good best friend.

  
“Guess you saw that coming, didn’t you?”


End file.
